


Miles Away

by shuhannon



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Ben Solo is a Mess, F/M, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 22:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20235223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuhannon/pseuds/shuhannon
Summary: “Is that a 1977 Millenium Falcon?!”Ben’s head jerked up, and his eyes squinted against the hot Arizona sun.The voice had a lilt of an accent. British, his brain registered after a brief delay.A Brit in the desert who knew about old Corellian cars? What were the odds? Especially when the last thing Ben wanted right now was to be noticed by anyone.





	Miles Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sciosophia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciosophia/gifts).

> This is my Plaid Paramour fic for House Plaidam over at the Reylo Writing Den! It’s a gift for sciosophia whose prompt was this really pretty song, “Miles Away” by Krysta Nick. 
> 
> Country usually isn’t my genre of preference but for Plaidam, I’m willing to step outside of my comfort zone.
> 
> Sciosophia hope you like it! It was a little nerve wracking to write for someone whose own writing I admire so much! ♥️
> 
> Thank you so much MyJediLife for being my beta for this and catching all my mistakes!

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/182242012@N03/48507359152/in/dateposted-public/)

_ Maybe one more tank of gas and I might find it _

_ If I can't leave you in the past then I'll keep drivin'. _

Ben had spent most summers of his childhood in the back seat of his father’s ‘77 Millenium Falcon, listening to his parents bounce between singing along to the radio and arguing about the best route to take.

Leia liked the highways. She liked picking certain destinations and taking the most direct path there. One lined with clearly marked rest stops and gas stations in case of emergencies.

Han was more of a ‘Hey, let’s turn here just to see what happens’ type of driver. And because he was the one behind the wheel the majority of the time, his father felt like he should have final say.

Which was a joke, because everyone knew that Leia Organa was  _ always _ the one in control. Even his father would admit that once he had a glass or two of whiskey in his belly, and his pride could handle the admission without leaving behind a bitter taste in his mouth.

Even with the bickering and route disputes, the road trips were fond memories for Ben. He would read books in the backseat or stare out the window, looking for changes in scenery or other signs that they had crossed into yet another state.

They would pull over only once it got super late, would crash in questionable motel rooms, (“It’s just one night, Leia. C’mon it won’t kill you.”) and Ben would ask very nicely if he could buy a new keychain or magnet in gas stations and gift shops that they stopped in along the way.

The roadtrips stopped before Ben turned twelve.

By the time he was thirteen, his parents were separated, his dad bouncing between Chewy’s couch and Uncle Lando’s spare room. Why, Ben didn’t know, considering his mom worked such long hours at the law firm that she was barely at the house. 

A year after that, his dad returned back to his questionable piloting gig and just stopped coming home. 

It was only then that Ben realized how much he missed his parents fighting. Their verbal sparring matches were loud and legendary. They would be welcomed to the eerie silence that fell over the house after the divorce.

The last thing Ben thought was that he would ever go on a road trip again.

  
* * *

Ben Solo’s life was a goddamn mess. 

He hadn’t spoken to his mother in years, his father even longer than that.

His uncle couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as him. To be honest, the feeling was mutual. 

And his job… he had dropped out of law school with just two semesters left. He had been working as a bartender, sleeping on an air mattress in Poe’s apartment, with no plan, no idea of what to do next.

Going back to school wasn’t an option.

Neither was being a bartender, spending the rest of his life living off tips and wiping away sticky counters.

Ben was stuck in a rut. He felt like a failure.

Fuck, he felt like his father.

To be honest, Ben wasn’t sure how it happened. A ginger man with the face of a weasel and a statuesque blonde - who even Ben would think twice about approaching in a back alley - were regulars. They came in at least once a week, drinking top shelf booze and sitting in the corner, discussing what Ben presumed was something either intimately personal or about work.

It turned out to be the latter.

He overheard them discussing needing a driver; someone to take a package from point A to point B. Someone who had their own car that could make it across the country in one piece.

“I can do it.” Ben spoke up, the words slipping from his lips before his brain could fully process what he was committing to.

Nothing about this sounded like a good idea, or even remotely legal. Mysterious packages? Crossing state lines? His mother would have a heart attack.

It was exactly the type of thing Han would do.

For some reason both those thoughts fueled Ben’s need to see this through, and also caused warning bells to go off in his mind. This was not a good path. These were not the choices he should be making with his life.

Three days later Ben was meeting with Snoke, the boss to the blonde and the ginger - and the one who needed the package delivered.

A week later Ben was giving his notice at the bar. Snoke had paid him an advance which was more than a month’s earnings from pouring drinks and babysitting drunks. Not to mention that Ben had been promised the rest of his pay once he arrived in California.

“This is going to be the start of a lucrative relationship, Solo.”

Looking into the envelope full of cash, all Ben could do was nod.  _ Lucrative indeed _ .

  
  


  
* * *

The Falcon had been collecting dust in his mother’s garage for years. 

“He didn’t want it,” she had told him when he had been visiting home during his first semester at college. “You can have it, if you want, sweetheart. Your dad won’t mind. He’d probably be happy that you’re driving it around.”

Ben didn’t want it either, probably the same reason as his dad. 

The Falcon had too many memories; stains from soda pop on the upholstery from drive in movies, and too many cracker crumbs embedded into the carpet no matter how many times they vacuumed.

There were the same old mixtapes in the glove compartment.

In some ways, the Falcon felt more like home than their house ever did. It was the setting for every good memory Ben ever had with his parents. The center of the lives that they once had.

It hurt too much to drive it around.

Now though, now Ben needed a car. He needed one that could make it across the country, reliable and completely ordinary. Something that wouldn’t catch anyone’s eye or draw attention.

The Falcon was his only hope.

  
* * *

“Is that a 1977 Millenium Falcon?!”

Ben’s head jerked up, and his eyes squinted against the hot Arizona sun.

The voice had a lilt of an accent. British, his brain registered after a brief delay.

A Brit in the desert who knew about old Corellian cars? What were the odds? Especially when the last thing Ben wanted right now was to be noticed by anyone.

Even if they were tall brunettes, with legs that were long, muscular and deliciously golden and tan.

Ben’s gaze moved up past her legs, taking in her short jean shorts, her white tank top, and the too big flannel she wore over top of it. The sleeves were rolled up, past her elbows, and she was just  _ standing  _ there, hands on her hips, an expectant look on her face.

Fuck, she had  _ freckles _ .

“Hello? I asked you a question.”

It took a moment for Ben’s mouth to catch up to his brain, which was still trying to synchronize with his eyes. His eyes - that were still fixated on her chest, watching it rise and fall with every breath as if he was thirteen again, incapable of being in control of his own body.

“Yes!” Ben answered, too loud and eager. Quickly he cleared his throat, bringing a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. “I mean, yes.” There. That was calm. That was better. 

“I’ve never seen one in person before.” The girl was beginning to circle the Falcon, bending down to inspect it’s tires and peering inside. “The interior’s original! Barely a speck on it.”

A scoff slipped from his lips. The girl furrowed her brows, flashing him a small frown. “You’re not looking close enough. I spilled a cherry slushy back there once. And that’s not the only questionable stain.”

His ears betrayed them, the tips flushing red as he realized the way his comment sounded.

“I just mean it was a family car. My family’s car. Lots of food spills. Some melted crayons, too.”

Ben watched as the girl’s features seemed to relax, and did she… did she smile at him? Or maybe it was just the fact that she was no longer frowning.

“So, it’s your car then?” She asked, standing up straight and taking a couple steps towards Ben. He shrugged his shoulders, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Fuck, Arizona was hot. He should have packed shorts. Besides, Ben didn’t own any shorts. He didn’t really need them. Boston didn’t get that hot.

Not like this. Dry. Arid. Sandy. Maker, so much fucking sand.

“It’s my dad’s. He’s had it since, well, my whole life and then some.” The words just fell from his lips. Suddenly he had no filter; no sense of cover. All because of what? Her freckled skin? Her tan legs? The way she kept worrying at her bottom lip, sinking her teeth into the soft flesh like a bad habit she just couldn’t break?

She seemed to be looking past him, towards the gas station that was in need of a good coat of paint - and perhaps an even better structural engineer. Ben didn’t want to think about the state of the restroom inside.

“Your dad here? With you? I would love to ask him some-”

“No!”

He didn’t mean the word to erupt from him like an ill timed bomb. He didn’t mean to shout at her; to take a step towards her, causing the girl to immediately move back. The corners of her lips were turned down now, and she had crossed her arms across her torso, right underneath her chest.

Ben was not going to look at her chest. He wasn’t. Nope.

“I’m sorry-” Quickly he stammered the apology, the words feeling heavy and foreign on his tongue. Ben couldn’t remember the last time he apologized to anyone, let alone a stranger asking perfectly innocent questions. If it wasn’t for the package in the trunk. If it wasn’t for Snoke and his job…

Except without this job, Ben wouldn’t be in Arizona right now.

“I just- My dad and I aren’t on the best terms. It’s…” His voice trailed off, and now it was his turn to chew on his bottom lip, worrying the flesh. “Complicated.”

She was nodding now, her expression settling into some form of cool neutrality. 

A moment of awkward silence fell between the two of them. Another car pulled into the parking lot, it’s driver getting out to pump gas. The only sound in the air was the slam of their car door followed by the slow glug of the gas filling up the tank.

“You wouldn’t-” It was getting late. The sun was beginning to set. So far Ben had been driving pretty much nonstop from Boston. He had made good time, only stopping to take a piss and grab a bite to eat. He slept the bare minimum, just enough that his brain didn’t feel foggy and his eyes didn’t grow heavy while on the road. Because of this, Ben was running ahead of schedule.

“Is there somewhere nearby to grab a drink?” 

He could afford to take a night off, to drink a beer or two. 

The girl seemed to be biting back a smile as she gave a small nod of her head. “There’s a decent place. It’s about a ten minute drive from here.”

Already Ben was nodding. There was a mischievous glimmer in her eyes, her gaze darting between Ben’s face and the keys to the Falcon which were now in his hands.

“I can show you where it is. But I get to drive your car.”

  
* * *

Maz’s Kanata was a dive bar at best.

At worst… at worst it was loud, blasting obnoxious country western music while a surprisingly large amount of people were moving together in what Ben assumed was line dancing.

He suddenly felt like he was in a seedier remake of Footloose.

His mother  _ loved  _ Footloose. Ben had probably seen it more than any other movie.

“Are you even old enough to drink?” Ben asked the girl, having to shout over the volume of the music. He was on his second beer, leaning back against the bar as he surveyed the brunette to his right.

Rey. She had said her name was Rey.

Right before she had taken his keys and hopped into the driver’s seat of the Falcon.

Ben knew he should have protested. He should have ignored the pretty girl with an ass that Ben could only compare to a juicy, ripe peach. He should have gotten into the car and just drove right out of that town, not stopping until he reached California.

This was a disaster waiting to happen.

Yet… yet here Ben was. 

Because her name was Rey.

She had driven the Falcon like she was born to do so, shifting gears seamlessly as she pressed her foot down on the gas pedal, urging the car to zoom down Main Street. 

Han would have been proud.

Ben needed a stronger drink.

Lifting the glass to his lips, Ben chugged down the cheap beer. It tasted like piss. Setting the now empty glass down onto the table with a heavy thud, he caught Rey’s eye. She was raising an eyebrow at him, but said nothing, clearly ignoring his earlier question. Maybe she just looked young. Maybe she was his age and was offended.

Or maybe she was under twenty-one, something she didn’t want to admit in a crowded bar.

She had to be at least eighteen though, right?

Ben felt a lurch in his stomach.

Fuck.

“Whiskey,” he ordered from the bartender, and his empty beer glass was exchanged with a shorter one filled with an amber colored liquid. He grimaced as he drank it, though to be honest Ben wasn’t sure if it was due to the burning sensation now in his throat, or the fact that the terrible country music seemed to be getting louder.

“You come here a lot?” He was practically shouting the question at the girl sitting beside him. Still, she couldn’t hear.

“What?” Rey countered back, cupping a hand around her ear as she leaned towards him. In return, Ben shifted closer to her until his mouth was hovering above her ear. “I said, do you come here a lot? Is this-” He waved a hand towards the drunken line dancers that looked more like a mess of lost kittens. “Your scene?”

  
  


Ben watched as she wrinkled her nose, snorting into her own beer glass before she gave a shake of her head. She was so close to him. He could smell her, could smell the sweat on her skin mixed with the citrusy blend of her shampoo. It was intoxicating. Ben took another healthy gulp of his whiskey.

“It’s not always like this,” she began to explain, turning her head towards Ben. They were barely inches apart now. Ben was close enough to see the freckles on her nose. Not the fucking freckles again. He began to count, entirely enamoured by the way they dotted her skin. One, two, three.

“But,” she carried on now, a fond look crossing her features as she surveyed the bar around them. “The food is decent, the beer is cheap and it’s one of the few places open after ten.”

It was a place to go. Ben could relate to that. He had a place too, once.

He downed the rest of his whiskey.

  
* * *

They talked and drank. They ate greasy bar food which was, as Rey had said, not that bad. They leaned close, their heads bent towards one another so they could talk over the music that was still being blasted throughout the bar.

She touched his arm.

He tucked back a strand of her hair.

Ben smiled. It was small. His face didn’t split into two. He wasn’t beaming like the sun. But it was still there, the small incline in the corners of his lips.

She made him smile. She made him relax. She made him feel different, more human. Less of a machine and more of a man.

This was not good. This was not good at all.

At this point he had been switching between whiskey and beer. His face felt flush, his body burning hot like a furnace. Rey’s hair was beginning to fall from the three buns at the back of her head, the wisps of brown hair curling around her face and clinging to her cheeks and forehead.

She took his hand, tugged him towards the dance floor.

Ben kept protesting, kept insisting that there was no way in hell she could get him to dance. Ben Solo did not dance, especially to fucking country music in a bar in the middle of Arizona.

Rey got him to dance.

It was a mess. He was too drunk, his body was too large, his limbs too long and uncertain on what to do. Rey didn’t seem to care, even as he stepped on her toe for the third time. She just grinned at him, her own face flushed a delightful shade of pink. She just kept on smiling at him, laughter slipping from her lips as her body moved right beside his.

They danced for maker knows how long. They danced until Ben’s feet began to ache, and his tee shirt felt damp as it clung to his body. They danced and drank until the bartender, a short older woman with glasses as thick as coke bottles told everyone they had to leave. “You don’t have to go home,” she yelled, her voice carrying easily through the bar. “But you can’t stay here.”

Rey and Ben stumbled into the alley, slipping out of the back door to the bar. They were laughing and grinning, their hands reaching out to steady one another. In reality, it was an excuse to keep touching, to maintain some sort of contact.

“What now?” Ben asked her, his fingertips skimming against her waist. He didn’t have anywhere to go or stay. He hadn’t bothered looking into booking a hotel room. Not when he had just been stopping for gas. He was to refuel the Falcon, grab a Red Bull and something quick to eat before heading straight back on the road.

  
  


He towered over her, even when his shoulders were hunched and his body was still angled towards her, as if they still needed to be close to hear one another speak. His eyes dragged down along her face, coming to rest on her mouth, where she was biting down onto her bottom lip.

She said nothing, and Ben quickly regretted the question. He shouldn’t have said anything. What was he thinking? A couple hours in a bar didn’t mean that this was something. What would it even be? Tomorrow Ben would have to get back into the Falcon. He would need to drive, need to get to California, and then back to the east coast.

Then Snoke would have another job for him. Maybe one that would take him out west again, maybe one that would even lead him back to Arizona, to this town.

To Rey.

Or maybe not. Maybe he would be sent north or sent south. Maybe even out of the country, to Europe or beyond.

Maybe this night was all that they had.

Her eyes were burning into him. It was as if she could see past it all; could look straight into his soul.

Ben felt his weight shift from one foot to the other. He didn’t want her to see it all. He didn’t want her to know about the broken bits; the fractures that ran deep and could never be repaired.

He didn’t want her to see how alone he was.

Even as he looked right back at her, and realized that she was alone, too.

She took his hand, slipping her fingers into the space between his. The gesture was soft, was intimate, the way their palms slid against one another. She was tugging on him again, was leading him far away from this bar and this alley.

“Come with me,” she offered. And Ben… Ben could do nothing but follow.

  
* * *

The Falcon was left behind in the bar’s parking lot. They were both too drunk to even think about driving it around.

Instead they went on foot, walking hand in hand, not exchanging a single word.

She continued to lead him; continued to guide him down the empty streets. The street lights flickered above them. The air had grown cold as night enveloped everything. Ben felt a shiver travel down his back, but he knew it had nothing to do with the temperature drop. It had nothing to do with the empty black sky that hung above them.

It was her. It was all because of her.

They stopped before a building. It was run down on the outside, just like everything else in this town. It stood at two stories, made of brick, the painted trim peeling and chipping away. It wasn’t anything extraordinary. There wasn’t anything about it that stuck out.

Once inside, Rey continued to lead Ben, her hand gripping his as they made their way up the two flights of stairs.

“This is me,” she murmured, fiddling to get the key in the lock one handed. But she did it, she got the door open, and together they slipped inside.

It was small. One room, filled with an unmade bed and an old antique rug that covered most of the generic wooden floor. There was an armchair in the corner, though it was covered in so many disregarded clothes that Ben wasn’t entirely sure what fabric belonged to Rey’s wardrobe and what belonged to the chair itself. The stove was small, too slim to hold a standard sized cookie sheet, and it was flanked by two countertops, one with a sink and the other housing a drying rack that was piled high with dishes. Ben was bigger than the fridge. 

Pictures were hung up on the walls, some cutouts from magazines, others were clippings from newspapers. And plants. There were plants on every spare surface, which gave the cluttered room a sense of the outdoors, of life.

What a contrast this place was compared to the apartment Ben kept back in Boston.

His place was stark. The walls were painted a neutral gray, with absolutely nothing hanging on them. His kitchen was always untouched, his fridge empty apart from the spare condiment package or bottle of water. It was a place where he did nothing more than sleep and shower, where he grabbed a clean set of clothes before heading back to the bar, or now, to report to Snoke.

His apartment was functional. It served its purpose and did nothing more.

Rey’s was the exact opposite. It was a place that was comfortable and cozy. It was lived in, a nest for her to retreat to and hide out when life got tough and things didn’t go as planned.

Rey had a home.

He turned to her, realizing that Rey was waiting patiently for Ben to say something, to offer up a remark or comment.

Instead he remained silent. He offered up nothing more than to turn, bending his neck and closing the space between them as his lips pressed against hers.

  
* * *

“You’re- you’re eighteen, right?” He hated himself for asking it, visibly wincing the moment the words slipped from his lips. His lips - that felt puffy and bruised. They felt chapped and suddenly very empty and cold, since he had to pull back enough to speak.

The way she smirked, the way her fingers raked through his hair, playing with the dark locks and twirling them over and over again, it was a comfortable gesture. A reassuring one.

“I’m twenty.”

Twenty. Nine years younger than Ben. Not old enough to legally drink. But well over eighteen. Old enough to be an adult, one with an apartment, and, Ben assumed, a job. Where was he at twenty? College. Still planning on law school, on continuing to carry the heavy burden of the Organa-Skywalker legacy.

They were on her bed, her tiny, twin sized day bed. Ben was sitting, his feet still firmly on the floor though his upper body was turned towards her. His hand was cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing back and forth over her soft skin. His other hand gripped her waist, his palm nestling into the curve as if it was meant to be there, as if it was meant to stay.

“Okay.”

They kissed again, Rey’s tongue moving to slip into his mouth with ease. Ben groaned, his grip tightening on her waist as his fingers became knotted in her hair.

He shifted closer to her, and in turn Rey moved towards Ben. She was practically perched on his lap now, her thighs framing his. Already he could feel himself growing hard, his jeans suddenly feeling awkwardly rough and thick.

His mouth was on her neck now, suckling and biting as he moved down, down, down. The flannel shirt she had worn was long gone, and now Ben was working his hands underneath the hem of her tank top. Her skin felt hot. Or, maybe that was his skin. Either way, it was delirious and delicious the way her stomach felt as he slid his palms along the stretch of her stomach and along her sides, her back.

Ben could get used to this. He could get lost in this, in  _ her _ . The way she smelled, the way she felt, how she tasted. It was all so intoxicating.

She was pressing her body against his, shifting and grinding against his growing erection. If his jeans had felt uncomfortable before, now they were just stifling. Entirely too thick, providing too much of a barrier between himself and Rey.

Moving along her neck, Ben continued to travel lower and lower, lips and teeth and tongue brushing against her collar bone. The tip of his tongue traced over the delicate bone as his hand came up to brush against the underside of her breast. He felt her shiver, and in response his hips jerked upwards, meeting her own mid thrust.

“More,” he heard her pant as she tilted her head back. He grinned wickedly against her skin. More, Ben could do more. His hand cupped her breast, squeezing and gently kneading the soft flesh. It elicited a moan from her, the sound just edging Ben to do more, to go further.

But first he needed to get rid of some of his layers.

  
***

They were a mess of limbs; of teeth and tongues and clothes being thrown left and right. At first the air felt chilly against his bare skin. Goosebumps broke out, and a shiver traveled down his spine. 

Looking at Rey, Ben wasn’t even sure the cold air was to blame. Not when she was spread out before him, all golden skin covered in freckles. Her hair had come loose, the majority of it falling from the trio of buns, spilling out around her as she laid herself back onto the bed.

The tiny, twin daybed.

It looked like adding one more person would be too much - let alone adding movement to the mix.

It was a challenge, one that Ben would be lying if he said didn’t add fuel to the fire that was the growing erection between his legs.

And there she was. Naked, exposed. Waiting and ready, her legs slightly parted and her lips twisted into a coy grin.

Ben felt like he could die right here and right now, with this vision permanently embedded into his brain - and he would be alright with that. He would be content.

But now he was going to touch her and taste her; he was going to devour her alive and enjoy every wet second of it. And, as he moved down to stand on his knees, he knew exactly where he was going to start.

  
  


  
* * *

Bright sunlight filtered into the room. Instantly Ben shut his eyes and moved to roll over. Except he couldn’t. He was stuck, his body pinned down by something warm, soft and solid.

Rey.

Last night came flooding back. The bar and the dancing; the walk back to her apartment and the way she had tasted and felt; the way she came on his cock with a delightful shudder.

Just thinking about it, about her, was enough to get his dick half hard. Opening his eyes fully, it took Ben a moment to adjust to the light. He lifted his head up, looking down at the mess of chestnut brown hair that was sprawled across his bare chest.

She was using him as a pillow, with her body curled up tight beside him. Idly Ben began to sift his fingers through her hair. He felt her stir, heard a mumble, a murmur slip from her lips.

Then she was tilting her head up, resting her chin right onto his chest as she deliriously blinked at Ben a handful of times.

“Morning.” Her voice was low and still thick with sleep. 

“Morning.” He echoed her greeting, trying to quell the panic that was forming in his stomach.

He needed to leave. He was supposed to be in California today. He wasn’t supposed to make stops, not like this. Not to mention the Falcon had been left back at the bar, the package he was to deliver still locked away in the trunk. Ben didn’t think this was the seediest of towns, but it still made his actions selfish and foolish. If Snoke found out…

Looking down at her, their faces were mere inches apart. It would be so easy to close that space, to lean forward and press his mouth to hers. They could spend the morning in bed together, cramped together in this tiny fucking bed, making it creak and moan under the rhythm of their bodies.

They could have a morning to rival last night.

Ben could whisper sweet promises to her. They could cook up something in that tiny kitchen, feed each other naked while exchanging stories of their past. They could bare their souls, laying out their past history for the other to see.

It scared Ben, to barely know someone that you felt like you had known your whole life. Rey felt like another piece of him; like they were opposite sides to the same coin. Someone that he didn’t know for even twenty-four hours seemed to understand him better than anyone Ben had crossed paths with before. More than his parents, his uncle. More than Snoke.

It was exciting though, too. Ben never had a desire to go skydiving before, but he had to think that this was the same feeling, the same rush of adrenaline and endorphins. It was exhilarating and scary - and a mess of other complicated emotions.

Ben needed to leave.

Attempting to untangle his body from hers, he instantly felt cold, felt alone. He also felt trapped, cornered between the wall of her apartment and Rey herself, blocking the only clear exit path from the twin bed.

“I have to get going.” He blurted out the words, his voice too loud and his tone too harsh. Even Ben winced. Words had never been his strong suit. He had always been terribly awkward with them, either saying too little or too much. Never had it been just right.

“Oh-” Rey quickly scrambled to the side, pulling her sheet up to cover her naked body. A body that had been lying against Ben’s just moments ago, so soft and warm.

It was hardly graceful, the way Ben moved to get off the bed. He stood in her apartment, entirely naked as he tried to locate all his clothes. Underwear. First he needed his underwear.

An awkward silence fell over the apartment, the only noise being Ben rustling around, pulling his articles of clothing on one by one as they were found. 

“Er-” Rey cleared her throat. She was still just sitting on the bed, her hair mussed and a faint bruise or two forming on her neck. Fuck, Ben had done that. He had bit too hard. A careless mistake, one that teenagers made. Not twenty-nine year old men that should know how to kiss without leaving a trail of hickeys behind.

“I thought maybe we could get breakfast.”

Ben froze. He had managed to step into his jeans, had started the process of pulling them up over his thighs. “I can’t.” Once more his voice came out stiff, the words clipped and the tone abrupt. “What I mean to say, I have to get going. I have to get my car, get on with work.”

“Work,” Rey echoed the word, nodding slowly as she began to worry at her bottom lip. “Right, you said you’re just traveling through. I know that. I just didn’t know how strict of a deadline you’re on-”

“Strict.” Ben buttoned his pants, his fingers fumbling with the zip. “Like I shouldn’t of even stopped yesterday, let alone spent the night.”

Shit, shit, shit, shit. 

“Rey, that’s not what I meant-”

“It’s fine.” Now it was her tone that was short, her expression steeled over, distant and as hard as stone. “I get it. Work. You better get going.”

She stood now, sliding off the side of the bed, her sheet still wrapped around her like a dress. No, like an armor. A cocoon to try and keep the bad things out. Like asshole one night stands that kept saying the wrong things the wrong way.

“Hey-” Ben moved in her path, his hand reaching out tentatively to touch her elbow. “Look, I didn’t mean that- It didn’t come out right, I just-” His other hand raked through his hair, a noise of frustration being exhaled through his nose.

“My boss is a dick,” He started again, still standing before her. She needed to understand that this didn’t have anything to do with her. That it had everything to do with him.

“You don’t owe me any explanation.” There was fire burning in her hazel eyes. “We had a good time last night. We got drunk, we had sex. I didn’t expect a proposal or a pledge of commitment.” She brushed by him, perhaps bumping shoulders a bit too hard, making a clear beeline for the bathroom.

“Rey- Listen- I just-”

He wanted to throw something. He wanted to punch his fists through the drywall. Why was it so hard? Why was it so complicated to put your feelings into words? It was as if something didn’t connect right in his brain; like the bridge between his thoughts and his mouth was damaged.

“I feel it too.” The words rushed out, feeling thick and heavy on his tongue. She was already at the bathroom, poised and ready to slam the door shut in his face. Instead she froze. Her back was still to Ben, but the sheet hung low, exposing the slope of her muscles and skin. How badly he wanted to reach out and touch it. How badly he wanted to take her; to pick her up and carry her back to the bed.

How badly he wanted to just stay.

“This is crazy. Fucking crazy. But I felt it.” Whatever that ‘it’ was. It didn’t seem as important to try and define it. As long as Rey knew, as long as she had felt it too, then that was all that mattered.

She hesitated. She gave a long pause and for a moment Ben felt the hope blossom in his chest. She just needed to turn around. She just needed to face him. They could talk about this. Ben could explain and she would listen and she would understand.

Slam.

Rey moved forward, the door shutting firmly behind her.

  
* * *

Part of him knew he should have stayed. He should have pounded his fists on that bathroom door until she opened up to let him in. He should have just talked, tried to explain himself better even if he was talking to nothing more than a wooden door.

Ben should have tried harder.

Instead he gave up.

The walk back to the bar was brisk and quiet. Ben took his keys from his pocket and unlocked the driver side door.

He could barely slip into the seat. Then he remembered that Rey had driven the Falcon last. She had moved the seat up, had adjusted it to her comfort all while Ben had silently scowled in the passenger seat. Once he managed to get things readjusted, Ben shoved the keys into the ignition.

He didn’t start the car. His mind was elsewhere, wandering.

Maybe last night  _ had  _ been a fluke. Now with the harsh daylight shining literal light onto the situation, Ben realized how bad of an idea it had been. She was too young, too innocent. Twenty years old, and the last thing she needed was to get caught up in the mess that was Ben Solo.

No, it was best to cut his losses and leave. Let him be a lesson on one night stands with strangers. Let him be the guy that she bitched about to her friends.

It was shitty, for her and for Ben, but it was for the best.

Exhaling heavily through his slightly parted lips, the engine caught with a flick of his wrist. He needed to make good time in order to reach Los Angeles by the deadline.

He just needed to keep moving. He needed to keep focused on the task at hand, the task that Snoke had entrusted him to do. 

It was better to just let the past die, to kill it if you must.

It was better to keep your gaze forward, set on the horizon.


End file.
